


Love Bug

by on_the_wing



Series: Virusverse [2]
Category: Starfighter (Comic), Starfighter Eclipse
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Crack, F/M, Interspecies Sex, Mangled Song Lyrics, Mildly Dubious Consent, Seductive Clicking, luckily Ethos has no shame right now, okay not really but I thought that was obligatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-06 08:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_wing/pseuds/on_the_wing
Summary: The deleted chapter from Loose Lips Sink Ships. Infected and emboldened by a space STD genetically engineered by the Anglers, Ethos visits the Kepler's Colteron prisoner for a friendly chat. Yes, the Kepler has a Colteron prisoner in this AU. They just do, okay?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoodyearTheShippyCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodyearTheShippyCat/gifts).



> Happy (slightly late) birthday Goodyear! I apologize for the terrible mixed-up bug biology--you can blame it on the Colterons not actually being bugs. :D
> 
> This happens after the Hayden chapter but before everything goes completely haywire.

Khrrik 'Eht lept toward the human almost before the cell door opened, pinning its upper limbs with hers and bearing it quickly to the floor. It didn’t even struggle—pathetic! She glanced toward the entrance for the others, ready to use this one as a hostage, but the door shut as quickly as it had opened. She’d just have to wait until another one came.  
  
“Oh mine,” the human said. “You very strong.”    
  
Its accent was atrocious, although not much worse than a Thvin’ier. Like other humans, it spoke only the battle interlingua which is uttered with the mouthparts alone, so she did the same in return. “Of course I’m strong. I’m a warrior. Why are you here? It’s not feeding time.”  
  
“Are you will eat me?”  
  
“No, you’re not appetizing to me,” she replied sternly. Did the humans eat living beings, like some kind of spider? Disgusting. Or maybe it was an insult.  
  
“Sadness.”  
  
What was wrong with this thing? Did it have a death wish? Khrrik released its obviously weak upper limbs, but stayed crouched over it with a claw resting on its upper body, keeping it on its back. “Why are you here?”  
  
“I was think you lonely here.” The human trailed its pale, blunt claws up her thorax like a larva begging for food. “I want talk you MUCH at you arrival, but commander never me allow.”  
  
“Are you an interrogator?”  
  
“No, I do…how say…findpath worker! I specialize on communicate other species. I wise tongue-word-study worker.” It made a series of short barking noises.*  
  
“Why did your commander allow you to visit me now?” Khrrik spoke slowly and clearly. It was unclear to her what navigation had to do with xenolinguistics, but maybe it was a translation issue.  
  
The human’s mouth slit curved up at the corners. She vaguely remembered that nerd Rekh’thi saying this meant pleasure. Or was it friendliness? “She busy. She not will know.”  
  
Interesting. “You disobey your commander? She must be weak.”  
  
“She strong but not wise. I handle. She not wall.”  
  
“Are you trying to desert?” Hmm, it might not know that word. “Do you want to change your hive? To work with our side?”  
  
“I only want friends of you. To learn of you. I no want battle.”  
  
It was in the wrong profession then, if it was telling the truth. Hmm. It almost sounded like… “Are you a cleric?” Clerics sometimes traveled on battleships, to advise the leaders or minister to the soldiers.  
  
“On prison and monster game, yes.” It made the barking sound again. “In real, no. I findpath, I mechanic, I translate.”  
  
“Well, I won’t give you any information. That’s forbidden for you…unless of course you were to come back with me and swear allegiance to the Empress. She might like you. She likes new things, strange things.”  
  
“Tell me more from this Empress. She sound interesting.” The human reached up to stroke her thorax again, sending little shivers down to her clawtips. Did it even know what it was doing? Was it wrong of her to let it?  
  
“She’s very—wait! no! I’m not telling you anything.”  
  
The human made a drawn-out vowel sound. “Too-much bad. You too clever on me.”  
  
“You don’t seem very intelligent, so I suppose anyone would seem clever to you.” Ugh, why did she keep blurting things out? She’d been trained to resist interrogation but not this...prattling.  
  
“I very stupid. I need teach one on top of one.”  
  
“What is it you’re trying to learn?” Maybe the others kept it as some kind of pet. It seemed harmless and playful. Then again, this could be a ruse.  
  
“Any idea you want teach. We ignored of you. We always want fight but no learn. May it be if we learn we no fight.” It wriggled.  
  
What the sun.** It would be hours until any others came, and they wouldn't say anything interesting anyway. “I will make a deal with you,” she said carefully.  
  
“Thrillment!”  
  
“You tell me one true thing about you or your people, and I will tell you one thing about myself or mine.” She was proud of herself for leaving out the true part on her own end of the bargain. “No questions. We each decide what to tell.”  
  
“Good! Who say first?”  
  
“I suppose since I proposed it, I will go first.” What would be a harmless thing to tell it? “My name is Khrrik 'Eht.”  
  
It tried to repeat her name, mangling it horribly. “I call you Cricket. That small creature from my world. Sings loud and pretty.”  
  
She almost recoiled. Flirting was one thing, but this talk was too crude coming from a stranger, much less a stranger that looked so young. “Stop that now. We are not comrades. It’s your turn to tell me something.”  
  
“I called Moral Theory. Not my name but we use other names in ship.”  
  
Rekh’thi would lay an egg over this. “My native language is Hriveth.”  
  
It squeaked. “Which one is that? Is that one having...can’t say your language frustration!”  
  
“No questions, remember?”  
  
It made the vowel sound again. “Understand. But I have so much questions!”  
  
Khrrik waited.  
  
“My native language is—” gibberish word.  
  
“Inklish?”  
  
“Yes! I too speak—wait, I must wait for next turn.”  
  
“Good, you’re catching on.” She considered. “At hatching, I weighed 45 pirikhs.” It could have been true—no one weighed grubs unless there was some obvious medical problem.  
  
Moral Theory stared into the distance, then its mouthparts curved up again. “You big girl!”  
  
She preened. “Well yes, of course. Your turn.”  
  
“I like singing.”  
  
Why was this thing so aggressively flirtatious? Was it even an adult? It looked so pale and soft. Then again, maybe that was only a sign that it was from a civilian caste. The black ones looked as if they might have exoskeletons, but the shiny segmented parts were actually quite soft and flexible, and there seemed to be no separation between the plates.  
  
“I think you are very strange,” she told it.  
  
“I think you are very heated.”  
  
“What do you mean? The temperature in here is comfortable.”  
  
“Nowhen worry.” It stretched. “I so stupid and you being so clever, maybe you not afraid to try game from my people? Truth or… _dare_. I don’t know word in your tongue. Command but not command? I ask if you brave enough to do thing, you decide if you do it. If you do thing you attain honor, if you not do thing you lose honor.”  
  
“Why would I lose honor if I didn’t choose to follow the suggestion of an enemy? That makes no sense.”  
  
“I am not an enemy. This game we play among friends. It tries...tests...courage.”  
  
It was a terrible idea, but she was bored enough to rip her own wings off, and if she didn’t play with this thing it might go away. Besides, what could they possibly do in this bare, locked cell? “Do I get to propose this… _ter_ thing to you too?”  
  
“Yes, I ask you and then you ask me. Then we do again.”  
  
“When does the game end? How do I win it?”  
  
“No one wins. We just gain honor and…recreation. We finish when we don’t want to play again.”  
  
“I will try it. But I don’t promise to do anything.”  
  
“You not required. Only a game.”  
  
“Very well then.” Khrrik sat back, releasing the creature but watching it intently. “Begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, Ethos just tried to tell a Colteron that he was a cunning linguist. :D
> 
> **Colterons in this au derive from burrowing beetles, so their idea of hell is the sun and, to a certain extent, "up" has the same negative connotations to them as "down" has to us.
> 
> Ethos' grammatical mistakes aren't meant to have any specific pattern or infer anything about the language--I just wanted to convey a rough sense of what he sounded like to a native speaker. 
> 
> I took a lot of liberties with the language (we only see the Colteron clicking in the comic) and with anatomy (we can't actually see any palps or antennae and it looks like they might not have wings) but the Colteron we see in the comic doesn't look like it has ANY sensitive spots and that's no good for porn. And it was just too tempting to call her something that sounded like Cricket. :D 
> 
> Khrrik is her personal name and 'Eht is her hive name, if that wasn't clear. Apostrophes indicate a click.
> 
> For Colterons, neotony means a small head with small mouthparts, pallor, and no chitin. So Ethos, even though he doesn't actually look like a larva, has a kind of anime-like over-the-top cuteness for them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethos is playing Truth or Dare with a Colteron. This can't get much tackier, right? Right??!

Moral Theory (what a weird name!) pushed its upper segments slowly off the floor, resting on its pygidium with its lower limbs bent and folded. “I first ask you, truth or _dare_? Then you decide, do you answer a question or do action. If you choose truth, you must answer true, no lies.”  
  
“I choose action.”  
  
“Then you say, _dare_.”  
  
“Fine. _Ter._ ”  
  
It hummed quietly for a moment from the mouthparts. More flirting. Why? “I _dare_ you to….touch my top of head. Where hairs is.”  
  
“How does that require courage? Are you poisonous? Do your hairs sting?”  
  
Its mouthparts curved up again. “Touch and find out.”

Khrrik raised one antenna, but reached out a claw to poke tentatively at the pale fluff. Nothing happened.  
  
“Touch better! Like this.” The human stroked her tibia.  
  
She combed through its thick curly hair with her claws, surprised that they didn’t catch and stick. Its hair looked tangled, but it was surprisingly soft, like an angora _inriht_ larva. The human’s fleshy eye shutters closed over its small smooth eyes, and it hummed again. A scent rose up out of the hair, unfamiliar but pleasant. She figured it was time to stop.  
  
“Truth or _ter_?” she asked.  
  
“ _Dare!_ ”  
  
“I _ter_ you to pick truth.” She smiled in triumph.*

“No just!” The human’s mouthparts fell open. “Agreed, though. Truth. Only truth about me though, no fighting secrets.”  
  
Uh oh--now she had to actually think of a question. She preened her antennae, thinking. “Why did you leave your planet and come out in this ship? You said you weren’t a cleric, and you don’t seem like a soldier.”  
  
“Difficult to say. My…hive needs…food and other supplies. If I work on this ship, the alliance of hives gives to my hive. Also, I must find work caste to choose for life path. This ship work gains me honor, maybe allow me entrance to difficult caste. And I explore, maybe find interesting strangers for talk to. Like you.”  
  
“You can choose your own caste?” What a novel idea. Unsettling, though, and impractical. Wouldn’t most of them end up as queens and concubines then?  
  
“We can choose try any caste. But our work may not bring fungus. Every work caste that people want, hard to do because so many want that work. Not enough work, not enough food. Many enter unwanted work caste to get fungus.”  
  
“Do they fight each other for the right to enter a caste?” Khrrik was still trying to wrap her antennae around this concept.  
  
“Turn ends! My turn! Truth or _dare_?”

Truth was obviously the more dangerous choice, which meant it would bring more honor. But why should she care what a human thought of her honor? It was important to show honor to enemies, but humans weren’t honorable enemies—they were more like clever animals. Still…she couldn’t bear to look like a coward. “Truth.”  
  
“Did you ever mated?”  
  
She reared back slightly. “Of course not. What a stupid question. I’m a warrior.”  
  
“Warriors nowhen mate?”  
  
“Only queens and concubines mate. If I attain enough honor in battle, maybe someday I’ll become a warrior queen and be allowed to mate.** But that’s unlikely, especially after I was stupid enough to be captured.”  
  
“Sad. You are lonely nowhen touching other person?”  
  
Her antennae curved forward in confusion. “I touch other people. I just touched you, didn’t I?”  
  
“Not ordinary touch. Special touch. Mating touch? Or like mating?”  
  
“Wait, do you mean sexplay? Touching without fertilizing eggs?” ***  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Well of course I do that. I’m not a cleric. Even they do it sometimes—they’re just not supposed to do it too often. Why are you so obsessed with sex and mating?”  
  
“I guess I only a thirsty female guardbeetle.” That mouthpart curve _must_ be a smile.  
  
“They don’t give you enough water? Why not?” Hundreds of thirsty warriors on a ship far from males? Why would they want this? Maybe it made them more eager to fight. Maybe they had a few males locked away somewhere on the ship, to be used as rewards? ****  
  
“They give us plenty of water. It was…word picture. Not real.”  
  
“Story? Metaphor?”  
  
“Metaphor! Yes.”  
  
“Anyway, it’s my turn. Truth or _ter_?”  
  
“ _Dare_.” Its eye shutters fluttered up and down, opening and closing. She wondered what it meant.  
  
“I _ter_ you to…open the door.” Why hadn’t she thought of this before?  
  
“Clever! But I can’t open the door. I need some person outside open.”  
  
“So you trapped yourself in here with me, weaponless and helpless? Are you crazy?”  
  
The shutters around one eye closed. “Maybe. But I know you not hurt me. Pick other _ter_.”  
  
Khrrik sighed. “Fine. Show me a dance that your people do.”

Its hand flew to its mouth. “A dance? I not good dancer. But agreed.” It climbed clumsily to its feet, brushed itself off, and drew in a deep breath. To her surprise it began, not to dance, but to chant:  
  
_It’s surprising._  
_Time is brief._  
_Madness claims tribute._  
_Listen well_  
_For brief time only—_  
_I must retain self-discipline._  
  
It began to pace the room as it chanted, waving its arms and head, its voice growing louder and varying dramatically in pitch and tone. The chant sounded almost mystical or religious, but also like a child's game.   
  
_I remember doing time twist_  
_Drinking short units of time in which_  
_Darkness-of-space strikes me_  
_And emptiness calls:_  
_All do time twist again!_  
_All do time twist again!_  
  
Moral Theory then began to do something vaguely resembling a dance, if it were a dance done by a drunken, one-legged nymph with no taste. There was a lot of hopping, gyrating, and waving of arms, and strangest of all, it chanted instructions as to how to do this dance while performing it. Eventually it moved on to more nonsense words:  
  
_Like a dream_  
_Falsehood release me_  
_Thus I am invisible_  
_Impossible me to see._  
_In other timespacehive_  
_Wanting watch others_  
_Hidden well, I see all._  
  
_Having small flip of mind_  
_You fall into time stream_  
_And all is changed forever._  
_You in space feeling_  
_Like taking sedatives_  
_All do time twist again!_

The human began to tap its feet while twirling across the floor, its lyrics becoming more and more nonsensical until they dribbled away entirely. It spun drunkenly towards her, tilting and wobbling, and toppled over at her feet. Reflexively, Khrrik reached down and caught it before it hit the floor.  
  
Its little claws clung to her arms and it smiled up at her, a face-smile _and_ a proper smile. So it _could_ produce pheromone expressions? Maybe, she thought with a vague feeling of unease, it was learning. She forgot almost instantly, though, because it was panting and sending up puffs of pleasant friendly scent and looking ridiculous but so, so cute.  
  
“You strong and fast both!” it gushed.  
  
“Stop flattering me. It isn’t going to work.”  
  
“Why I try to flatter? I only speak truth.” It reached up to stroke one of her palps, sending a flutter of pleasure through her. The gesture could have been either the entreaty of a child or the caress of a lover; this creature was neither, and she resented that she didn’t know how to classify the action or the feeling.  
  
Khrrik abruptly scooped up the human and set it on its feet at a proper distance.  
  
It let out a drawn out vowel sound that was probably disappointment. “What wrong? You afraid to be close with me?”  
  
“I’m not afraid of you. That’s ridiculous.”  
  
It smiled again. “I dare you lift me and hold me. If you strong enough.”  
  
She must be misunderstanding something about these _ters_ , because none of them seemed to have anything to do with courage or honor. Maybe humans were just afraid of everything. “Please. I could lift twenty of you.”  
  
“Only one of me here.” It raised its arms.  
  
“Fine.” It better not be thinking of punching her in the eye or the mouth. But then again, why would it be here alone if it wanted to do that? She swooped it up and held it in the crook of her left arm, so that its face was roughly at eye level but a decorous couple of clawlengths away to the side. It immediately twisted around to wrap its arms around her shoulders and its legs around her waist. It was worse than a Yithren honeycreeper. Now what?  
  
“You tired?” Moral Theory asked insolently, petting the bare epicuticle at the back of her neck.

She sighed. “Truth or _ter_?”  
  
It hummed. “Truth!”  
  
“What do other humans think of you?”  
  
Its eye shutters drew back, showing more white. “You need ask them, I not in their heads.”  
  
“You don’t know what they think of you?”  
  
“I know if they see me here with you, they think I crazy.”  
  
“They might be right.”  
  
“Maybe.” It leaned in closer. “Truth or _dare_?”  
  
“Truth.”  
  
“You think I am…what is word? Good for eyes?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Appetizing? No, wrong word.”  
  
“Cute? Appealing?”  
  
“Yes! I think?”  
  
She was tempted to say no, because the creature was so fucking annoying, but she had implicitly promised to tell the truth. “I suppose. In an alien way. Why do you care?”  
  
“Only question if I pick truth!”  
  
“All right. Truth or _ter_?”  
  
“Truth!”  
  
“Are you an adult?” It must be if it was flirting with her, but who knows, maybe she was misinterpreting somehow. Or maybe it was abnormal. Its behavior was certainly abnormal.  
  
Moral Theory inhaled sharply. “I was think you ask why I care!”  
  
“I changed my mind. You’re obviously crazy, so it’s pointless to try to figure out what’s going on in your head.”  
  
It made the barking sound again. “All on this ship is adults. We not bring larvae to ship where might fighting.”  
  
“Good. At least _something_ about your people is decent.”

“Sometimes is more recreational to be indecent.” It clung harder to her shoulders and nuzzled the side of her neck. Was that its _tongue_?  
  
Khrrik’s antennae stiffened in shock, although she figured she shouldn’t be shocked by anything the human did at this point. She resolutely ignored the rush of warmth to her nether regions, and decided to ignore the impertinence as well. It probably wanted to get some kind of reaction out of her, and she wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction.  
  
“Truth or _dare_?” it murmured into her neck.  
  
It took her a moment to form words. “ _Ter._ ”  
  
“I _dare_ you to…I not know word! _Kiss_ me.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
It hummed, infuriatingly. “I not certain how, really. Touch mouthparts together? But we have different kind of mouthparts.”  
  
“Why would you do that? You don’t have any palps.”  
  
“This parts here—“ It pointed to the slightly darker distinct areas around its mouth slit. “—feel much. Your mouth opening not feel?”  
  
“Somewhat. Not as much as the palps.”  
  
“I guess we try discover what way benefits. Move me to front?”  
  
Khrrik shifted the human to the front of her body, hitching it up so it could reach her face more easily. If she ever got back to the ship, would she tell the others about this? She wasn’t sure if they’d be impressed, amused, or disgusted.  
  
Moral Theory leaned in to nudge its face between her mandibles, and she opened them wider to accommodate it. It placed its mouth opening on hers, and squished it around for a moment. Was that all?  
  
It pulled back a little. “You not like?”  
  
“Not really. I told you, my mouth itself isn’t very sensitive.”  
  
“I understand.” It gently nosed against one of her palps, and without thinking she hummed and brushed them against the sides of its face. The surface was less smooth than epicuticle, but softer, and it tasted faintly of soap and salt. The ends of the head hair tickled pleasantly.

Moral Theory inhaled again, and hummed back, rocking against her and squeezing her torso with its surprisingly strong thighs. She trailed a palp along its mouth, and it made a breathy noise and opened its strange vertical jaws a little wider. It mouthed at the palp, and she felt something wet and hot and tender that must be its tongue slipping out to explore it from tip to base. Her antennae slipped forward to bury themselves in its soft fluffy hair, and traced the curving outlines of the…what were they? on the sides of its head. It seemed to like that a lot.  
  
The human turned its attention to the other palp, and on a perverse impulse she prodded at its mouth with the first one. It opened and sucked the tip in, and it felt so obscenely good that she probed with the second one as well, crossing it with the first. Its tongue rubbed against them both as it leaned forward to take more of them in. She hummed deeper, and her wings began to add a silvery, high shimmer to the soundfeel.  
  
Moral Theory pulled its mouth away—although it still let her caress its face—and gasped, “Put me on floor.”  
  
Was it dissatisfied? Maybe the _kiss_ ritual was just finished. She set it down on its feet, feeling obscurely disappointed.  
  
It tugged at her arms. “No! You come down on floor too!”  
  
What was it babbling about? “We are standing on the floor,” she pointed out.  
  
“No, we fall on the floor! Rest on floor.”  
  
“You mean lie on the floor?”  
  
“Yes!” It demonstrated, plopping down on its pygidium and lying back.  
  
Khrrik cautiously sank down to her knees, then reclined next to it. It tugged at her arm again. “You lie on me!”  
  
“Won’t I crush you?” she asked dubiously.  
  
“I like.”  
  
It waved her over, so she shrugged and climbed on top of it. Their faces were very close together, and her antennae absentmindedly began to stroke its head again. “Truth or ter?” she asked.  
  
“Truth,” it replied, sounding a bit squashed.  
  
“Are you really comfortable like that?”  
  
“No,” the human admitted.  
  
“I knew it!” She sat up, straddling it, aimlessly trailing her claws over its torso.  
  
It let out a breath of relief and smiled. “Truth or dare?”  
  
“Truth.”  
  
“What parts from you feel most?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What parts—what word you use? You said your mouth is not…”  
  
“Sensitive?”  
  
“Yes! What parts is sensitive?” 

She paused, suddenly feeling awkward. Who has to ask a question like this during—an alien, that’s who. “My antennae. My palps. The undersides of my hands and feet. Between any of the plates. My, uh…ovipositor.”  
  
It let out a vowel sound. “You female?”  
  
Khrrik stared. “What else would I be?”  
  
“I not know! All your warriors female?”  
  
“Of course. Why would we waste males on combat? There are so few of them. Do you do that?”  
  
“Yes. We have many males. Half are males. More males are fighting than females. On this ship we have a few females, but all warriors male. Some other ships, all warriors female.”  
  
“So…are _you_ male?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
This explained so much. It was small and weak and underdeveloped, it was cute and friendly, it was flirtatious, it didn’t seem to know anything practical…of _course_ it was male. _He_ was male. But then most of them were, if he was telling the truth? The others she’d seen didn’t look or act like this. Maybe the guards were the females. That would make sense. It didn’t actually take physical strength to pilot a ship or program or do repairs. And if half of the humans really were males, they’d need to be in more professions than the few that her people allowed.  
  
She’d been playing with a _male_. She’d never expected to get the chance to do that. It was forbidden to play with males without direct permission from their queen, and they certainly weren’t supposed to come up and start playing with _you_. That was, Khrrik had to admit to herself, dangerously thrilling.  
  
Moral Theory tapped her thigh. “You all right?”  
  
“Yes, I was just surprised.” She focused on him again. “So, what parts of _you_ are sensitive?”  
  
He took her hand in both of his. “Allow me show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In this au, Colterons smile (and frown, etc.) mostly with short pheromone bursts, sometimes punctuated by antenna movements. Most adults can choose to "lie" by sending bursts of emotion that they don't actually feel, although they will feel them for the moment that they're producing them. They have several ways of laughing, which may be used separately or combined--fluttering the antennae, vibrating the body at a certain frequency, or chittering. None of this is explained or conveyed in Colteron military transmissions, so all of Khrrik's expressions are pretty much going over Ethos' head.
> 
> ** "Queen" has two meanings in Colteron languages. Originally it meant what we would imagine: the ruler of the hive, who lays the eggs. These royal queens still exist and at least nominally rule the hives, but as Khrrik mentioned, a few very high-achieving warriors or other professionals are sometimes allowed to mate once or twice and lay fertilized eggs. In order to do this, they need to be fed some kind of idk, special royal jelly or something for a few months first. Their clutch will be much smaller than a royal clutch, maybe 6-12 eggs, and they usually take care of the larvae themselves with some help from the royal nurses. After the larvae are grown enough to eat solid food, the temporary queen will stop eating royal jelly and will become infertile again, although she keeps the honorary title. Becoming an honorary queen is a great honor but it takes you out of commission for a while, so it's sometimes used to move a threatening rival off the board. Warriors aren't usually involved in politics though unless they're generals, so for them it's just a fancy vacation.
> 
> *** Colteron reproductive sex, like beetle sex, is...not designed to be fun. In the modern era they've instituted various technical improvements, but it's still something they try to get over with as quickly as possible. They have a lot of what we would think of as recreational sex, but they don't think of it as sex because it's fun and harmless and friendly. They do acknowledge that it's related to sex (hence the word sexplay, which is probably not a great translation but I couldn't think of a better one) but for them it's a completely different activity (although still fairly intimate).
> 
> **** Horrifying true fact that neatly lines up with current slang: thirsty female beetles will sometimes mate with male beetles just to get the water in their copious quantities of god I don't even want to think about it. I also don't want to think about how they absorb it.
> 
> I wish there was a less unsexy word for palp. It probably sounds better in Colteron languages. If anyone is reading this who is not Goodyear and/or an entomologist, palps are these little antenna-like things that stick out of an insect's mouthparts. They're like a combination of fingers and tongues, because they shovel food toward the mouth but can also taste it. Most beetles have two pairs of them; I couldn't decide whether to give Khrrik one or two pairs so I left it ambiguous.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bug-clicka-bow-wow

“Are you all right?” Khrrik asked suspiciously. For the past few minutes Moral Theory had been wiggling in a way that seemed somewhat excessive even for a male, his face was redder and strangely damp, and he wasn’t singing or even doing much humming. Could she be hurting him somehow?

“I good! Why?”

“You’re acting strange.”

“This is how I always act.” Apparently he could tell the asymmetrical crook of her antenna meant disbelief, because he added, “when I do this.”

“Oh. You don’t sing?” Maybe he wasn’t excited enough? That would be embarrassing.

“You think I should sing? That funny. I can sing if you want.” He launched into another chant. 

 _That little small tiny thing they call love bug_  
_No person ever saw it, but it got the whole world shaking_  
_Started with a little small kiss and embrace_  
_It little small tiny miniscule—_

“That’s enough,” Khrrik interrupted. “You call that singing?”

“Hey! You are cruel.”

“Oh, am I?” She traced a line up his neck to the projection he called an _ir_ , and he shivered obligingly. “Seriously, though. That’s chanting, not singing.”

“Not singing? What is singing if that not?”

“Touch me here and I’ll show you.” She guided his hand between her legs, and her ovipositor emerged and lengthened as he stroked it. She hummed, and her wings began to vibrate in a delicate, throbbing descant.  
  
“Pretty! I not know that is what singing means for you.”  
  
“I guess you weren’t being crude after all,” she murmured, voice blurred by the vibration. “If you only meant to say chanting.” Chanting was rather decorous, often religious, almost always refined and elegant. Not the way he did it, though.  
  
“I am never crude,” Moral Theory asserted, tugging faster at her ovipositor.  
  
“So, you can’t sing? Or you _don’t_ sing for some reason?”  
  
“I guess I can’t. You sing with wings?”  
  
She almost smacked herself in the forehead. “Of course! You don’t have wings!” None of them had wings that she could see. Sometimes wings could be hard to identify if they fitted very smoothly with the body, but now that she thought of it, none of the humans even had a clear dividing line down the back. “How do you vibrate fast enough to satisfy each other, then?” It was starting to get hard to think, but she’d be burned if she let him stay more cool-headed than her.  
  
“We not need very fast vibration. Is good though.” He writhed again, rubbing his lower torso up against hers, and she kneaded his upper torso, which for some reason he seemed to like.  
  
“I getting overheated.” Moral Theory put a hand to his neck and suddenly _ripped his skin open_ , what the sun.

She let out a piercing yelp and reared back.

“What?”  
  
“Your _skin_.”  
  
“Oh! This not my skin! This material covering, for cold.”  
  
Her guts stopped trying to leap out through her mouth. “It’s just a suit? Why are you wearing it? Are you from a very hot climate?”  
  
“No, but we get cold easy. And people think is indecent without suit.”  
  
“That’s weird. So how much of you is actually the suit?”  
  
“I take off, but you need get off me first.”

Khrrik rolled off and watched as he peeled off what she had assumed was the skin on his upper torso, neck and arms. Then he removed another, smaller layer from around his upper torso.  
  
She suddenly felt stupid for thinking that the white suit was his skin. It was snug-fitting but it didn’t actually attach to him, and now she could see that his skin was the same color and texture all the way down to his waist. Mostly, anyway—there was a faint dusting of speckles across his face and shoulders, and a pair of pinkish-colored rounded spots placed in bilaterally symmetrical regions on his chest; each one encircled a slightly darker small raised bump. Maybe those were the sensitive spots? They seemed to be in the right areas. What could they possibly be for, though?  
  
There was also a dip, possibly a hole? exactly in the middle around waist level. No idea what that was, either. She was getting impatient and at this point she didn’t really care.  
  
He pulled off the shell-like coverings on his feet and lower legs, then a lighter cloth covering for the same areas; he then opened the front of the lower half of the suit and shimmied first out of it, and then out of _another_ underlayer. So many layers! Khrrik was slightly apprehensive about his aedeagus—would it have a lot of spines or hooks? Any civilized species would shave off the spines, but this was a _human_.      
  
When she finally saw it, she almost laughed. What had she expected? Everything else about him was small and pink and harmless—why would this be any different? It was shorter than her ovipositor, flushed and rounded at the tip, completely smooth with no evidence that it had ever been otherwise. It bobbed innocently above a soft, hanging sac of flesh. She had no idea what _that_ was either but _who cares, can we please get on with it_. 

Moral Theory reached for her and pulled her down into a reclining position facing him. She petted his mouth with her palps and he hooked a leg around hers, humming, tracing the soft spots under her wings and thrusting up against her. They were finally getting somewhere! She hoped fervently that no other humans looked in on them, because it probably looked like she was devouring him face first.  
  
He reached down to press his aedeagus up against her ovipositor, clasping them together with one hand, stroking firmly. She hummed as hard as she could, the shivering taking exquisite hold of her wings and body as she strained against him. It _just—wasn’t—enough_. He wasn’t vibrating in the right way.   
  
She covered his hand with hers, making her claws quiver as forcefully as possible to transfer the vibrations through his hand. He made a helpless, throaty sound, and then another, and another, thrusting faster. It was actually going to work, they were going to make it work, despite their differences they were going to descend together to the depths of WHY DID HE STOP WHAT THE SUN. It took all her self-control not to shriek, or bite his face off.   
  
“Can—“ he panted. “This is good but—can we—can we do mating? I not can fertilize with you.”  
  
Khrrik stared at him for a dazed moment before her brain finally kicked into gear. There was no way he could possibly hurt her with that thing, right? “Sure. Whatever. Just do it _now_.”   
  
“Impatient?”  
  
“Yes, and so are you. Stop playing games.” She pushed him over on his back and straddled him again. He helpfully held up the aedeagus for her, and she took it from him and positioned it, sinking down onto it in one fluid motion. She wasn’t very sensitive there, but it felt comfortable, and she clenched her muscles around it experimentally.   
  
Moral Theory cried out and jerked his hips, eye shutters falling closed. On a cruel impulse, she twisted one of the bumps on his chest to make him yelp even louder, then pulled his hand toward her ovipositor again. He grasped it eagerly, movements stuttering and irregular, and she covered his hand with hers again and sang them into a sweet dark place where there was no strife or separation.  
  
They lay in a tangled heap for a long time.  
  
“Truth or _dare_?” Moral Theory finally asked, voice slurred and sleepy.  
  
“Is it even my turn?” Khrrik yawned.  
  
“Who knows. Truth or _dare_?”  
  
“Truth.” She didn't want to move.  
  
“Pick _dare_.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Come on, just do!”  
  
“Fine. _Ter_.”  
  
“I _dare_ you…to escape.”  
  
“What?”

“I like you,” he said decisively. “I not want you go to my planet. Warrior scientists torture you, never allow you return home.” He extracted a small flat device from some fold of his suit and tapped at it, then spat out a stream of human gibberish. She could faintly hear a deeper voice on the other end, sounding alarmed. Moral Theory answered reassuringly, then authoritatively. It was odd to see him switch personas like this.  
  
He finally put away the communicator and smiled at her. “That my comrade. He let us out soon. We say you take me for hostage, you demand passage to your ship. Ship not broken now, we already fix.” He gathered up the scattered pieces of his suit and began to put them back on.

Khrrik watched him in dreamy fascination--it was like watching him shed his skin in reverse. “Won’t they punish you?" she asked after he was done.  
  
He waved a hand dismissively. “No, I handle. They think I stupid, only scold me for crazy behavior. I say you trick me, pretend injury, then grab.” He climbed to his feet, and she followed.  
  
“Why would you do this for an enemy?”  
  
“You not enemy. You my comrade.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his face against her chest.  
  
She tentatively stroked his hair and back. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? The Empress would value your knowledge highly, and I think many people would like to talk to you. You could teach and learn and make new friends.”  
  
“Thanks, but I need stay here with my people. They need teaching, and I know better how teach them. You know your people better, can teach them better.”  
  
“All right. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’ll miss you. Weirdo.”  
  
“Maybe we meet again in future. After fighting ends.”  
  
“Maybe,” Khrrik smiled.  
  
They stood there in silence for a while, until she heard footsteps in the corridor outside. “Lift me,” said Moral Theory, and she scooped him up and tucked him in the corner of her arm, ready to go home and spread their message to all her friends there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for the non-Goodyear among you: you could probably figure this out from context, but an aedeagus is sort of the bug equivalent of a dick. Sort of. Vaguely. Apparently it sometimes has another telescoping piece inside it that you know I don't even care it's late and bug anatomy is so complicated, sob.


End file.
